Inferno
by AhmoseInarus
Summary: Reid finds himself trapped in a burning building, pinned down by multiple UnSubs with automatic weapons.


Inferno

It had all happened so fast, Reid wasn't sure where or when it had all gone wrong. Right now, two thoughts were rolling through his mind. 'I am so gonna die here…' and 'Hotch is gonna freakin lose it…'

He turned and looked at the man on the floor beside him. He glanced at Reid as he slammed another clip into his handgun and chambered a round. He smiled slightly, then stood and whirled, firing several shots over the top of the bar. Then he dropped to the floor as automatic gunfire tore over their heads. They ducked as they were showered in glass and alcohol from the shelves above them, then counted their blessings that none of it had caught fire. Half of the place was a roaring blaze, but the UnSubs didn't seem too keen on leaving.

Disturbed pounded over the speakers, and that combined with the gunfire and the raging inferno kept Reid from speaking the man, or the man speaking to him. Neither would hear the other. Instead they communicated with silent gestures and glances. Reid hardly knew the man… he was the bar security, and he went by Byron. The owner lay dead a few feet away.

Reid sighed and screwed up his courage before he turned around 180 degrees, pivoting onto his knees and leaning out from behind the bar, firing off several rounds. He watched a trail of bullets spray across the floor heading towards him and he ducked behind the bar, wincing as they ricocheted off of the side, sparks flying. The bodies of one of the UnSubs lay there, and Reid watched with horrified fascination as it jerked and danced around as the bullets tore across the still form. The knife in the dead hand dropped. For some reason, Reid reached out and snatched it, then took it's leather case from the dead man's belt when the gunfire stopped. He sheathed the blade and clipped it to his own belt.

Byron nodded his approval of this move. The pair stared at each other, then in a silent agreement, Byron popped up over the top of the bar and Reid spun around the side and both shot off several rounds again. Reid was pleased to see several UnSubs fall before returning fire. He and Byron took shelter again. The pair reloaded their weapons. These were the last rounds they had… Once again they moved and shots rang out.

Reid didn't hear Byron shout out in pain, but he saw the blood blossoming on his green shirt under the black jacket. The gun fell to the floor. Reid stared, then grabbed a towel from the floor and moved, pressing it into the man's shoulder. Byron grimaced, but gave him a look of thanks. He grabbed a bottle of whiskey that was on the floor and knocked some back, to Reid's shock and slight amusement. He grinned at Reid and winked. Reid smiled back. The song changed. With the DJ dead, the music was stuck on Disturbed. It moved to the next song on the album.

Reid picked up Byron's gun and checked to see how many rounds. The man had shot off more than he had, but there was still more than enough to work with. Vaguely, he could hear the UnSub's shouting. They were moving. Reid took a deep breath and stood, holding both guns out and beginning to empty them. He stared across the room, keeping his eyes on the men he was aiming at. He moved deliberately along behind the bar, crossing one foot behind the other as he moved down the length of his shelter. The UnSubs were firing wildly in every direction. Reid just continued to move, pulling the triggers continuously, his eyes burning with determination. He was NOT going to let these fuckers win. He tried to ignore the bodies scattered through the club… the people who hadn't made it out of the room. He blinked the blood out of his eyes as it dripped down from the cut just below his hairline, and ignored the pain from the gash in his shoulder… the gash the knife he now wore on his belt had left. Reid grunted in pain and stumbled back as he was hit… but his vest saved him from anything more than a bad bruising.

The UnSubs now had him in their focus, targeting the white letters standing out on his chest even through the flashing lights. It was hard to miss them, brightly reading FBI. Reid frowned as he continued pulling triggers. The guns no longer spoke out, no longer kicked back. He dropped to the floor and holstered his own piece, then scrambled back to Bryon and laid the man's gun down beside him. Not like it would do any good; it was empty.

Reid looked around. Now what?! His mind raced, and he reached up onto a shelf, grabbing a bottle of bourbon that remained intact. He opened it and snatched another towel lying on the floor, cramming it into the bottle. Then he turned and dug into Byron's pockets. The man blinked, then grinned when Reid pulled out a lighter… he LIKED this kid! He had been skeptical when Reid had first entered the bar, flashing his badge. He even laughed. This kid?! This little pale, gawky toothpick an FBI Agent? It was ludicrous. But he played along and answered the kid's questions, leading him across the club to speak with the owner.

He had known there was trouble when he saw the group of about a dozen men appear around the corner and walk purposefully to the club. When he saw the automatic weapons, he had moved. He had barricaded the doors and ran inside, shouting. The Agent hadn't wasted time. Together, they began herding people out the back. But the front doors had burst open and automatic gunfire had torn through the place, as well as little homemade cocktails like the one Reid was currently making. The place had been on fire within moments, and then more men poured in through the back, setting fires. The only way out now was the front doors. And the UnSubs were between Reid and Byron and their way out.

Reid was grateful that he had worn his vest. They had been expecting an attack on a club tonight, but they didn't know which one. It turned out to be two. Reid had called for backup, but Garcia told him that everyone had gone running to where Morgan was… she had been about to call HIM out as backup. Reid didn't know what happened after that. His phone had been ringing, but he couldn't hear it, and really didn't think that a chat with Garcia was in his best interest right now…

He lit the towel in the bourbon bottle, leapt to his feet and lobbed the crude bomb across the club. The UnSubs clamored to get out of the way. While the were distracted, Reid reached out from behind the bar and grabbed the body of their fallen comrade, dragging it behind the bar. He then began to strip him of the automatic weapons and ammunition. Reid recognized the gun in his hands. He had seen one just like it before in the hands of a boy named Owen Savage in Texas.

Byron watched Reid work with the weapon. The kid obviously knew all about the weapon, but he was awkward with it… he likely had no PRACTICAL knowledge… his guess was right. Reid had read about the weapon, and knew how it functioned… and if you counted reading about how to use it, then he knew how to use it. But he had never actually held one before. He frowned, and finally feeling that he could indeed use it, he leaned around the bar and sent a hail of bullets down on the UnSubs. They howled and ran.

Reid looked back at Byron and motioned for him to follow. The man blinked, then nodded and scrambled after Reid, snatching a handgun from the dead man as he passed. Sticking close together, the pair moved out from behind the bar. Reid looked across the room in shock when he noticed a small knot of people in the corner. They hadn't escaped. Reid scowled… he would be damned if he was going to let any other innocents die this night. He pointed at the group, and motioned to Byron. The man looked at the people and blinked, then gave a determined nod. Reid stood and was deafened by the noise from the automatic weapon in his hands.

The fire was returned and Reid yelped, stumbling. Pain… pain in his arm, and definitely more bruising on his chest… a pain in his lower abdomen as he fell into the corner of a table due to the bullet that tore through his thigh… a flash of fire glanced across his bicep as another bullet grazed him. He dropped to the floor, rolling under a table. Byron was herding the people out the front doors, and Reid's relief was more intense that the physical pain. No matter what happened now, he had done his job. And he was satisfied.

Byron guided the people across the street towards the barricade that law enforcement had set up. His eyes lit up when he recognized people wearing the vests that the kid was wearing. FBI. They looked like they had seen some action that night, too. He ran to them, waving his arm and shouting. One ran to meet him, and upon seeing the blood, guided him to an ambulance.

They didn't pay attention to his words until he mentioned Agent Reid. Then, all focus was on him… They looked worried to death… he had to tell them. He did. Reid was inside alone now. He was shooting it out with the UnSubs. He was okay. A few small lacerations. But he was trapped. The team looked grimly at the blazing building. Fire trucks passed the barricade and within two minutes, water was spraying over the building.

Inside, the UnSubs watched as part of the ceiling fell in. They had to leave. But they were pinned down in a stalemate. None of them wanted to admit it, but they, the six men remaining, were pinned by a single FBI Agent. But then again, they had him pinned too. One man had no intention of dying in the fire. He dropped his weapon and ran. The others shouted at him in fury at his cowardice. But he ran. And he made it! The Agent didn't kill him! He ran out, only to find himself staring down several more Agents with guns drawn. And he made the first smart decision of the night. He dropped to his knees, hands up, and surrendered.

Aaron Hotchner watched the building burn, listening to the loud crackling, and the pounding music still coming from inside, punctuated by the occasional spatter of automatic fire. His heart was pounding in his throat as he worried for the youngest member of the team… if that kid died… he mentally shook himself. Then, the doors flew open and men stumbled out, coughing. Some of them were screaming and thrashing. Their clothes were on fire. Fire fighters converged on them, putting out the flames and handing them over to the police. And still the fire raged. The doors swung closed. An explosion rocked the ground. The team fought as police and fire fighters began to push everyone back from the burning building as a large part of the wall fall back onto itself, taking some of the ceiling with it. The door opened again and another UnSub ran out, clutching his stomach… there was a deep knife wound…

Hotch's heart was in his throat, and his eyes were wide. He struggled with the Lieutenant, fighting to get by. Where was Reid?! He had to get Reid out! The rest of his team was doing the same, fighting to get past the police. Morgan looked ready to punch the man in his way. Rossi was in a shouting match with another. A second officer came to assist the Lieutenant in keeping Hotch contained. Then, Morgan shouted Reid's name. Hotch turned. The doors of the club swung open, one falling off the hinges. A tall thin figure stood silhouetted against the raging inferno within the building, limping out. Embers swirled around him dramatically. He carried the automatic weapon in one hand, and was holding a bloody knife in the other. The team pushed past the police and ran across the asphalt. The relief was overwhelming…

Reid was hardly recognizable, but he was alive. His face was dirty with soot, and smeared with sweat and blood, his sweat soaked hair hanging limp, some of it plastered to his face. His chest heaved as he inhaled the cold, sweet air outside, coughing from time to time. His shirt and slacks were torn and spotted with blood. As he watched the team run towards him, the automatic assault rifle slid from his fingers and clattered to the ground, followed by the knife. He heard Hotch shout his name in wild relief, and Reid stopped, unable to walk any further.

A moment later, his superior's usually gruff voice was gasping into his ear, telling him how glad he was that he was okay. Reid didn't even notice the pain in his body as the elder man held him close for a long time before backing away. Reid just smiled, just as relieved to have walked out of that building alive, as his team was to see him do so. Morgan was next, hugging him tightly and clapping him on the back, grinning and telling him what a bad ass he had looked like, walking out of a burning building with the gun and knife in his hands like he had. Rossi had laughed and gripped Reid's shoulder, his face split in a grin. Reid could see it in the man's eyes; Rossi was proud and impressed.

JJ all but pounced on him, tears of joy in her eyes, and they rocked back and forth slightly in that embrace. Reid was grinning. He thought that maybe when they got back to Quantico, he would go home with her and give his godson a hug, too… Emily was the last, hugging Reid and then pressing her phone to his ear so that he could reassure Garcia that he was still alive, even though she was watching the team in the background behind the news reporter. Her voice was thick and choked as she scolded Reid, forbidding him to EVER do that again. Emily was laughing now, and took the phone back to spare Reid more of a verbal lashing.

Then there was a firm hand on his elbow, and Reid found his boss steering him towards a waiting ambulance. Reid shook his head, assuring Hotch that he was okay, but the man was insistent. He pointed out that Reid's hands were shaking, and that once the adrenaline rush faded, he was likely to collapse. Reid wanted to argue, but he knew that Hotch was right. So he went willingly, already beginning to feel that invincibility that adrenaline gave fading. It was almost as if Hotch pointing this out had caused the rush to end. By the time they had reached the ambulance, Reid was coughing loudly and leaning heavily on Hotch.

The man climbed into the ambulance beside Reid and rode to the hospital with him. They didn't speak on the way, Reid was too busy speaking with the EMT's about his injuries… bruising from the shots that his vest had absorbed, the stab wound on his shoulder, the bullet graze on the other shoulder… another graze across his bicep, and a bullet had passed all the way through his leg, but it was off to the side, so it was really just a flesh wound with no serious damage. The cut on his forehead, the twisted ankle that had happened in the struggle with the last man as they both ran for the door. That was when Reid had finally pulled the knife. The man had knocked him to the floor and tried to get the automatic away from Reid with one hand, while trying to strangle him with the other. Reid had pulled the knife and stuck it into the man's belly.

At some point, he started coughing again and the EMT's put him on some oxygen and got an IV drip going. The adrenaline was gone. Reid let his head drop onto the gurney and took a deep, shaking breath. He was hurting. He was so tired, and so heavy. But he blinked his eyes open when he felt Hotch take his hand. The man was staring at him smiling slightly. Reid smiled back, then closed his eyes and enjoyed the ride.

Once at the hospital, it didn't take too long for the staff to get him washed and patched up. They decided to keep him overnight just for observation, but they made it clear that as long as no complications cropped up, he could go home in the morning. Reid was happy to hear that. His team came to visit, and Reid felt his ego swelling at how much they congratulated him on a job well done. That and Morgan bitching that he would have to work to take back his place as the Team Badass after what Reid had just done. Reid just chuckled along with the others.

Finally, the doctor came and ordered everyone out. Reid was sad to see them go, but also relieved. He was so tired. Hotch was the last one to go. He stared at Reid for a long time, and Reid stared back. Then, the man gave him the smallest hint of the smile.

"Well done." Hotch murmured, softly. "I'm proud of you. Get some sleep."

Reid smiled up at the man. Hotch smiled back, then turned and left the room. Reid sighed, laying his head down on the pillow. Hotch was proud of him. And he was proud of himself. He had done his job and done it well. And satisfied with this, Reid closed his eyes and relaxed, allowing sleep to take him.


End file.
